


Some Other Star

by animal_mask



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animal_mask/pseuds/animal_mask
Summary: The path before Anakin Skywalker was a hyperspace map, full of possibility and choice. The men he could become like so many stars in the sky.But even stars die.--AU in which Anakin goes untrained as a Jedi.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	1. act i, scene i

“Train him you will not,” Master Yoda says and just like that, Anakin will never be a Jedi.

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s heart kicks up like a sandstorm. Or, before Anakin would have blamed the swirling, clouded feeling on the heart, the body next to him. But maybe it’s something else. Maybe it’s the Force. 

He guesses he’ll never know.

“With all respect, Master Qui-Gon’s last wish was to train the boy,” Obi-Wan says and the rest of the room seems to finish the thought with their own conclusions. Anakin, staring at his feet, feels the tightening of lips, twisting of brows, shifting in seats. Or, maybe: disapproval, pity, discomfort. One Master, Mace Windu, remains impassive.

“We are making this decision with Qui-Gon’s thoughts in mind,” he says. “But chosen one or not, the boy’s fate cannot be decided by one man alone. The council will monitor... the situation.”

Anakin is used to being spoken around. He is used to minding his own while Watto brags about him like he’s a particularly adept maintenance droid. He is used to customers asking “How much?” and Watto replying “Him? Not for sale,” with a twinkle in his eye that said, “… but for the right price…” A slave, a pilot, a boy, a chosen one, a situation. A person, yes, but sometimes it’s best to push the person down and listen.

“My Master-“

“Is one with the Force now,” Master Windu interrupts, “A regrettable loss, but one you must not let consume you and cloud your judgement.”

The sandstorm of worry and swirling thought that is Obi-Wan contracts in shame. Silence.

Inside himself, Anakin feels something drop. His hope falls away. His mother, so far away, and Qui-Gon, both a savior and a father, dead. Obi-Wan, he’d thought, could never be like a father, but he could be like an older brother. No one on Tattoine had an older sibling, or at least no one Anakin knew. Big brothers left, for jobs or spice or women or men or far away stars. Or, more often, they were sold. Obi-Wan, young, strong, smart, would fetch a high price.

“Many new burdens you now carry,” says Master Yoda. To Obi-Wan, he thinks, but Anakin feels the pull of the Master’s overlarge eyes like the gravity of two suns.


	2. act i, scene ii

No, Anakin would never be a Jedi, but there is much consternation made over whatever he should be made to do next. No Jedi training because he was “too old,” though Anakin has never felt anything but young and limitless. 

“Too old” starts to sound like “not good enough.”

Not good enough for the Jedi, but It’s decided he must be good enough for something. Good enough for the masters and politicians and the Chancellor of the Republic to argue over in the towers of Coruscant. The consensus is that he’d make a fine pilot.

The details go over Anakin’s head. He occupies himself with thoughts of fast, fast ships, so fast that there’s never time to think or talk. New skies and worlds and most importantly flying back home, back to Mom, tall and free. 

Chancellor Palpatine, the old man with a kind smile and polite turn of phrase always on hand, proposes the academy on Naboo. Naboo, with endless rivers and lakes, new friends, angels, and not even half a parsec from Tatooine. The best instructors in the Republic, and of course Palpatine can put in a good word he assures with a wink.

(The Chancellor, Anakin catches himself thinking, wouldn’t be worth much back home. Too old, too kind, too keen. He tosses this thought away like a bad spanner.)

“I like Naboo,” Anakin chimes in, the smile already bubbling up. Finally, something to say, something to have an opinion on. 

“Naturally,” Palpatine says. “It’s decided then, I can -“

“An option, certainly,” says Yoda, “But far from the core Naboo is. Much remains undecided for the planet; perhaps a more stable system, hm?”

Quiet. The masters look at one another. Palpatine gives a conciliatory nod, folding his hands on his desk.

“Alderaan?” Obi-Wan suggests, “Closer to Coruscant and an even more prestigious flight academy.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi the Jedi Knight doesn’t look much different from Kenobi the padawan. The braid in his hair is gone. His robes look more crisp, though maybe that was all just Tatooinean grime. Even from across the room, Anakin can sense his discomfort even as he stands straighter than before his promotion.

The powerful men decide, yes, the Alderaan Royal Flight Academy is a fine option. Near, but distant. Prestigious, but rigorous. Anakin would receive an eduction not just in flying, but in the sciences and arts. Many Jedi Masters had spent a few years training with the Alderaanians - a better option couldn’t be found. The Chancellor makes a show of disappoint before promising to contact the right people.

“It is settled,” Master Windu says and with that a protocol droid is guiding Anakin out. The Masters, the Chancellor, Obi-Wan all remain seated. 

“We’ll watch your career with great interest,” Palpatine says. The doors to his office slide shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thank you for reading! This is my first fic, it's a bit of a character study on Anakin in a different context. Not tooootally sure what I'm doing, but I hope anyone who reads enjoys!


	3. act i, scene iii

The Alderaan Royal Flight Academy is cleaner than anything else in the galaxy. Granted, Anakin can still count the planets he’s visited on one hand. 

Where everything in Coruscant seemed glazed in condensed fuel and the detritus of two trillion beings, where little on Naboo wasn’t covered in moss or algae or vines, where Tatooine was... well, Tatooine, Alderaan is airy sheer curtains wafting in the afternoon breeze. Alderaan is obsidian columns, shining like platinum, ancient yet ageless. The point at which mountains and lakes give way to city is unclear, but somewhere along the way the dirt is cleared and the boot of civilization stamps out the wildness of nature.

Now, standing at attention on one of the academy’s trainee landing pads, Anakin can’t spot a streak of oil or wayward screw. Droids travel between repairs with precision and without comment. Even the line of new cadets Anakin stands in is neat.

After days of preparation, travel, paperwork, and goodbyes, goodbyes, goodbyes Anakin has finally arrived at the exciting part. He never imaged they’d let them fly so soon! 

Anakin feels like his body’s on fire, at the center of a super massive sun. His thigh itches something fierce in the too large uniform and he’s sure the other cadets can hear his heart beating. With a calming breath he’d watched Obi-Wan take more than once, Anakin focuses on maintaining his straight posture.

“Cadets,” booms a man from across the pad. He’s tall, striding towards the lot of them in far fewer steps than the gaggle of pilots behind him. Under the sleek officer uniform, Anakin notes, he’s big. Strong. Worth a lot back home and probably here too. 

“I trust you slept well,” he says when he stops before the line of first year cadets.

Unsure if they’re meant to answer, Anakin remains silent. He’s relieved when his peers do the same. 

The pilots that arrived with the tall, loud man disperse and make towards some of the starfighters.

“I’m Captain Roff Horada. I will be one of your instructors during your time at the Alderaan Flight Academy,” the tall, loud man says. Keeping his eyes trained on the captain, Anakin watches in his peripheral as the pilots engage the ships and strap themselves in. The familiar grip of disappointment clutches his heart.

“These senior cadets will be giving you a demonstration today,” Captain Horada waves towards the ships, “A bit of a celebration for your entrance to the academy. You won’t find yourselves in the cockpit of a ship for many years. Only through study and training will you join the ranks of the elite.” 

Each ships starts to hover on the ground with thrumming engines. Wind rips through the cadets, ruffling their starchy uniforms. Anakin feels the disappointment wrap around his insides like a vice until something else, something fiery starts to burn in his throat. 

Years to fly, the captain had said.

As the ships ascend, the other cadets make to mask their excitement with furtive fidgets and shifting. 

“At ease,” the captain says with a wave. The cadets slacken a bit, craning their necks to watch the ships fly higher and higher. Anakin does the same.

Four starfighters, aligned in a v formation tilt towards the single Alderaanian sun. Unlike the bright yellow ships of Naboo, these ships are nondescript, cutting harsh angles in the sky.

Three of the four break formation, twisting as the fourth flies straight on. As if in a battle or in a dance, a chase breaks out. The three pursuers spin and thread between each other. Thrill manages to break through Anakin’s bleak mood, through that uneasy anger simmering in the edges of his mind.

As if on cue, the pursued straighter turns as if to break away. Two of the chasing fighters twist back, while a single ship spins upwards. A few of the cadets gasp.

The remaining ship shoots up like it meant to breach the atmosphere until suddenly it isn’t. It falls. Falls in a tight curl, right at the fleeing ship. 

“Now then,” says Captain Horada, “Can anyone tell me the maneuver your senior peers just demonstrated?”

Anakin balks. The move wasn’t far off from the spinning trick he performed during the battle of Naboo. With enough speed and precision, the attacking fighter could pinpoint the fleeing ship. But a name? How could any of them know the name?

Given the silence of the now broken line of cadets, Anakin is sure most of the others are as ignorant as he is.

“Dunno the name,” Anakin says, “But I think somethin’ like that’d be good for pinning down a ship that’s about to run away.”

The captain’s mouth opens a little bit, sharp lower teeth peek over his lip.

“What’s your name, cadet?”

“Anakin, uh,” begins Anakin. He tries at a lopsided grin that would always charm the folks back home. “I mean, uh, Cadet Anakin Skywalker.”

Captain Horada’s mouth snaps shut and he nods. Suddenly, Anakin is keenly aware that the other students are looking down at him. In their minds, maybe, but they all must physically tilt their heads down to see him. Between the agog expressions and raised eyebrows, he’s sure they must be surprised at his knowledge.

“Cadet Skywalker, please do not speak out of turn. Cadet Bastra,” the captain nods towards another student whose hand is raised.

“My esteemed seniors just performed a Tallon Roll,” the student, Bastra, says. He returns to the attention position, eyes forward, only the hint of a smirk at the corners of his lips. “As Cadet Skywalker explained, this tactic will allow the pursuers to maintain course on a fleeing target, though it is quite risky. It takes skill.”

Enthralled, the other students hum in approval. A few clap Bastra on the shoulder.

“Correct,” says Captain Horada, “Should you complete your training, you will all have the skill necessary to perform such tactical and defensive maneuvers. Aspire to reach the ability we will observe in this morning’s demonstration.”

With a turn, the captain resumes watching the fighters dance in the sky. The cadets grin and crane their heads to follow the ships. Pointing and whispering to each other. Narrating the their courses, predicting their next decision.

Anakin watches too, his hand lifted to block out the too bright sun. Small, poor, and now dim compared to the other students. He thinks of this breath again, inhales deeply. The sharp sting of the past few weeks swirl inside him. His mother. The Jedi. Naboo. Coruscant. Fear. Disappointment. Anger.

He’s small and poor and dim. 

But he must grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Act I


End file.
